150 Years Later
by White Sherry
Summary: 150 years after the defeat of Voldemort, the efforts of the heroes of the War have resulted in a change in the fabric of wizarding society. However, there are consequences for every action made, and the change that they brought about is no exception...
1. Prologue

Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own any of the canon Harry Potter characters nor do I own the setting, spells and all that are directly tied to the world of Harry Potter. All those belong to JK Rowling and the publishers. This story is totally fictional and a product of two authors' overactive imagination. A word of caution before proceeding, you will find that this story will not revolve around any of the original cast of the Harry Potter universe by JK Rowling. They will be mentioned alright, but usually only as people in history books. This story is totally AU. There may be slash in future as well. Enjoy.

* * *

**Prologue  
**

_Once upon a time, in a magical land, there lived a terrible Dark Lord. _

_His desire was to obtain the world, and shape it after his own twisted heart. And he very nearly succeeded. However, the Dark Lord learnt of a prophecy that spoke of his downfall. Enraged by the very idea of being defeated, he did all he could to prevent the prophecy from coming true._

_Little did he know that in pursuing that course of action, he had fulfilled the conditions of the prophecy, leaving him broken, less than a man. _

_For fifteen years the Dark Lord slumbered, his tortured soul in the void._

_And then, he returned. _

_The Dark Lord's vengeance upon the land was swift and terrible. As it was fifteen years ago, he still desired a pure world where the blood of magic was untainted by the common man. Every action of his made this wanting clear... _

_However, his second ascension was not to be. The Dark Lord was cast down by the one who had defeated him once before, the only one who he could not overcome. And thus, peace came to the magical world, everlasting, eternal peace. _

**- Excerpt from "The Beginning of a Golden Age", The Daily Prophet. **

* * *

_"Mudblood". _

_That was what we were called, for a long time. Sure, yes, "What about Harry Potter?" I hear you cry. "Hasn't he done a lot for us? Aren't we fully accepted as part of the wizarding community now?" _

_Harry Potter! The Hero of the Second War, the Boy Who Lived. YES! He, along with his heroic friends, Ron and Hermione Weasley, have brought the wizarding world to the stage where we, Muggleborn, share the same rights and opportunities as those of purebloods. That is what the Ministry preaches. That is what the Daily Prophet writes whenever discussions of Muggleborn rights are brought up._

_Do we actually HAVE the same rights and opportunities, my brethren? NO. WE DO NOT! _

_What we do have are patronising scraps thrown to us by those pure-blooded members of the Ministry of Magic. Is it a coincidence that right now, a hundred and fifty years after the fall of Voldemort, the heads of the Ministry of Magic are all purebloods, and there have been complaints by purebloods regarding our so-called "lack of respect for tradition"?_

_What tradition are they referring to? Could it be the one where Muggleborns were tortured for sport? Or could it be the use of the epithet mudblood for us? The tradition of being deemed unworthy of sharing a school with them, of learning together with them, of living with them, of eating with them? The tradition of mistreating other magical races? _

_Yes, pure wizarding culture indeed. Respect for tradition INDEED. I say that if this is the tradition that I am supposed to respect, then I would rather DIE than give up my dignity. WE ARE WIZARDS! We may be Muggleborn, and live like most Muggles, but bear no doubt that even the best of the purebloods are not as talented as wizarding as we are. I'd go so far as to say that if we are talking about superiority, we Muggleborn are SUPERIOR to those snotty aristocrats up there, in their 'untouchable' world. _

_My brethren, the winds of change are about to favour us. We are Muggleborn, and we shall stand in Unity against the efforts of those who would seek to enslave us and reject our way of life. We will march and THEY shall be the ones who recognize our power! _

**- Part of a speech from Marc Brandon, leader of the Muggleborn rights group, 'The Unity'. **

* * *

_No comment. _

**- Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, being asked to comment upon the detainment of Marc Brandon after the June Rally. **


	2. 1

**1**

_Sand, nothing but endless stretches of sand. Sand, as far as the eye can see and beyond. The sun hung low at the horizon, casting eerie shadows on the dunes. All was silent and still._

"Where, am I?" a lean young man with waist-length caramel brown hair held firmly in a tie voiced out loud as amethyst eyes took in his surroundings. 

_The last time he remembered he was on the train bound for Glennmarie Town. How in Merlin's name did he end up in this godforsaken place?_

_Unless... _

The man named Irvyn gasped audibly as the answer hit him. "Not another dream…" he groaned. 

_Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to get out of it unless he was rudely awakened by someone in the physical world. And chances of that happening is very slim, since most of his colleagues knew about his sleeping disorder and insist that he needs all the sleep he could get. Damn them all._

"It seems that I will have to make the best out of this," he muttered darkly and began his trek up a sand mound. 

_After what seems like hours of trekking, Irvyn soon found out that the land was devoid of life. There were no trees, no animals, well heck! not even an insect could be found. Frustration and fear gnawed Irvyn's heart._

"What is it that You want to show me? I'm getting tired of this!" He yelled to no one in particular as he sunk to his knees, feeling very exhausted.

_It was at that moment, his ears caught a faint sound of someone crying. Curious on whom it might be and elated that perhaps he may find answers to why he was caught in this weird dream drove Irvyn towards the source of the disturbing noise. He found a young girl no more than twelve years old sobbing her heart out on the sand. Golden blonde locks that cascaded down her back just past her waist framed her delicate face, now marred with crimson tears; or is it blood? Irvyn could not tell. _

_Cautiously, he approached the young thing and said, as gentlemanly as he could, "Are you alright, dear? Is there anything I can do to ease your troubles?"  
_

_The little girl whipped her head up to face Irvyn, and her azure eyes widened in alarm when she found out that she was no longer alone. With lightning reflexes, she fled from him._

"I didn't know that I was that scary-looking," Irvyn chuckled to himself and ran after the child.

_However, he soon lost sight of her. Irvyn cursed under his breath. For someone so small, she certainly was very swift. Dejectedly, he scanned the area in hopes of spotting the girl, wherever she is. But all that greeted his eyes were sand, and more sand. If he didn't like sand before, he certainly hate it now. Unbidden, a piercing scream sliced through the thick silence, drawing Irvyn's attention immediately. A sense of urgency hung in the air as Irvyn made his way as quickly as his legs could carry him towards the scream._

_The sight that greeted him was not one that he was expecting at all though Irvyn would have snorted at the cheesiness of the scene which was most probably ripped off from a romance novel (where the hero saves the damsel from evil villains and thus earns the eternal gratitude of said damsel which proceeds to well, you get the picture), had it not been a key to perhaps escape the cage of dreams. Before him were two wizards, each cloaked in black with a hood drawn over their heads, making it difficult to catch a glimpse of their faces. One was holding the thrashing little girl firmly at his side while the other was pointing a wand threateningly at her. Instinctively, Irvyn reached for his wand but before he could cast a spell and save the day, he was blinded momentarily by a flash of bright light._

_When his vision finally returned, the two unnamed wizards had disappeared. Shocked with the abrupt turn of events (and the chance to show off his prowess, even if it was only in his dreams) Irvyn approached the girl dazedly._

"_What have you done? What is going on here?" he murmured. _

_His questions were met with silence._

"What have you done!" he queried again in a more demanding tone.  


_The little girl seemed unfazed, and her eyes were empty as she pointed to her right. A huge arch leading straight into a town square met Irvyn's shocked gaze._

"_How on earth…" he started and turned to look at the girl; or rather at the spot where she once stood. The child had mysteriously vanished again._

"This is getting old," Irvyn grumbled but decided to play along and entered the town. 

_The town square was bustling with vendors, housewives, children and men; just a regular village scene with not a touch of oddity which is odd in itself if one really think about it. _

"_Hmmm… Perhaps I may get the answers here after all," Irvyn mused and advanced towards the first person he could find which happened to be a sweet young lady selling apples._

"Would you like to buy some apples?" the lady spoke when Irvyn was within hearing range. 

_  
"No, thank you Miss. May I know where am I and what is going on here? Why is there a town in a middle of the desert?" _

_  
"Would you like to buy some apples?" she repeated, holding out an apple to Irvyn._

_  
"No, thank you. Can you answer my questions please? I really want to know."  
_

"_Would you like to buy some apples?" she asked again._

_  
"Look Miss, I declined. Don't you understand what I'm saying?" Irvyn bit back in frustration and grabbed the lady's slim wrist._

To his horror, her wrist melted into sand and so did the rest of her body. The apple fell to the ground with a noiseless thud. "What on earth is going on here? I swear, this is by far the weirdest and creepiest dream I've ever had. And that is saying a lot."

"Dong! Dong! Dong!" The loud tolling of bells at the clock tower broke Irvyn out of his reverie. But instead of dying away, the ringing grew louder and louder till the whole town throbbed with the single deafening note. And as abrupt as it came, the ringing halted. The town was wrapped in an eerie calm once more.

Yet, before Irvyn could recover from his initial shock, the buildings surrounding the square, the people; everything melted into sand and gushed out, burying him almost instantly.

"_What?! God... I… I can't breathe… someone… anyone… help…"_

"Irvyn! Irvyn!" "Irvyn… Oh Merlin! Wake up!"

Irvyn's eyes snapped open to the sight of his best friend's face hovering anxiously in front of him.

"Oh, Dar.. 'Tis only you. I must have dozed off. What were you saying again?" Irvyn grinned sheepishly.

"I was just asking about the mission when you suddenly fell asleep on me. Are you alright? You were choking on something before I woke you." Worry and concern radiated from Daryl Rivers, who is a young, aspiring Auror that is accompanying the Unspeakables on this mission.

"I..I was…" Irvyn trailed, unsure on how to continue.

"Another nightmare?" Daryl supplied, with a knowing look on his face. Irvyn remained silent and avoided his friend's penetrating gaze. "Care to talk about it?"

Irvyn started. How was he to tell his best friend something that even he himself could not understand? He may very well scare the wits out of both of them if he were to reveal his dreams. Sadly, Daryl can be very persistent sometimes - and the time is now, so keeping mum was not an option. However, if Irvyn played his cards right, he may be able to fool him into letting him off the hook. Hiding a devious smirk, he launched towards Daryl, grabbed his shirt and buried his face into his shoulder for dramatic effect, before whispering as brokenly as he could, "It was dreadful, Dar. Extremely frightful."

With teary eyes Irvyn related his story. "In my dreams, I was walking in a land made entirely out of ice cream and chocolate syrup. And Wow! You know what? The mountains in that land were constructed out of mint with vanilla swirls ice cream, topped with the most luscious cherries I've ever seen, and the river, Merlin! was in fact thick, creamy chocolate syrup. Not to mention the meadows, it was made of seven flavours of ice cream. I actually thought that I had died and went to heaven then. But that's not the point, and I'm digressing."

"Well you see, as I was happily frolicking in my little haven, two huge green monsters which looks suspiciously like celeries appeared from nowhere and transformed the beautiful land into a land of disgusting, rotten celeries! Isn't that awful? And that's not the end of it. They even force fed me those revolting excuse of a vegetable! When I couldn't eat anymore, they pushed all those veggies down my throat, choking me. I couldn't breathe at all. It was horrible. I think my life will never be the same again," concluded Irvyn.

"That's all?" Daryl asked monotonously, easing Irvyn from his death grip on his now rumpled Polo shirt.

"That's all? That's all?! Dar, I'm scarred for life and all you can offer me is a pathetic 'That's all'? What happened to your compassion? Oops.. sorry, I forgot you had none. But you should at least show me an ounce of pity!" wailed Irvyn at the top of his voice, obviously too carried away with his act. Luckily, the compartment they were in was empty save for the two of them; otherwise, Irvyn's outburst was sure to draw unwanted attention.

"Enough!" Daryl snapped, his patience wearing thin. "I'll go check on Miss Jones. She has been in the ladies for far too long. A bit of fresh air might do her some good," he added as he walked towards the end of the train compartment.

"Cheryll Jones, that new intern? What happened to her?" Irvyn resisted the urge to roll his eyes but instead plastered on his sweetest smile. 

"Motion-sickness. She had locked herself up in the ladies for about two hours now, vomiting." 

"I see. Well, it can't be helped. You'd better run along and cheer her up then. I'm sure she'll be thrilled," Irvyn snickered.

Daryl raised his eyebrows at that statement, and shrugged it off as one of Irvyn's eccentricities. As he exited the compartment he stated quietly, but loud enough for the other occupant to hear him, "You are a terrible liar and an even horrible actor, Irvyn."

The door of the compartment slammed shut. Irvyn sighed. "Only to you, Dar. Only to you." 


	3. 2

**2**

For most people, the gentle swaying motion of the train accompanied by the hypnotic click-clacking sound of the train running on the tracks would lull them into a gentle slumber. Sadly for Cheryll Jones the train was a nightmare come to life as she bent over the porcelain toilet bowl and heaved her guts out.

She had an unfortunate childhood affliction of severe motion sickness that she never grew out of. Her malaise was a source of embarrassment for her and fun for others. She couldn't travel by floo-powder nor could she spend more than 5 minutes being airborne on her broom before getting dizzy. Her father had consulted many medi-wizards on her conditions and despite the brief respite offered by potions, the after-effects were often worse than the illness – she suffered horrible migraines the very next day.

_Why__ oh why did the ministry send them on a mission to a god-forsaken middle of nowhere village by train?_ Cheryll wailed plaintively in her mind, convinced that she'd never survive the next two hours.

She was in full self-pity mode as she made another desperate attempt to keep her stomach down; her platinum blonde hair was plastered unflatteringly to her sweaty face.

Cheryll hadn't planned on spending the entire trip locked up in the tiny cubicle. In her mind's eye she was dazzling a certain delicious looking purple-eyed male colleague with her beauty, charm and wit. As a matter of fact, she had worn her best robes which hung snugly to her slender figure to impress Irvyn – regrettably for her, she'd only manage to show her face for five minutes before she had to make a run for it. Deep in her misery for a wasted opportunity of spending some alone time with Irvyn, she failed to hear someone knocking on the cubicle door.

On the other side of the said door, Daryl Rivers was not a happy camper. He had been standing there knocking and looking like a fool for almost a quarter of an hour. His face was grim and his lips were set in a thin line. Clearly, annoyance was building up within him with each polite rap.

_What on earth is she doing in there? Other than puking, of course. I hope she isn't deliberately ignoring me. For if she does, I seriously do not know whether I can keep myself from strangling her._ Daryl grumbled.

In truth, he wasn't very concerned with the welfare of the only female member in their group. He just needed an excuse to get away from Irvyn while he can still keep the frustration from showing plainly on his face. One thing that Daryl detests most is being lied to, and coming from Irvyn, it hurts. After all, they have been best of friends for the past thirteen years and the seemingly lack of trust; on Irvyn's part especially at times like this, is straining their friendship. Doesn't Irvyn realize that all he wanted to do is to help?

Shaking his head from the troubling thoughts, Daryl turned to the matter at hand. Unfortunately, the door to the tiny washroom was still firmly shut and Cheryll has yet to respond to his persistent knocking. He entertained the idea of using magic to unlock the door but he quickly shot it down, since it will be extremely rude and ungentlemanly of him to intrude. Furthermore, it will earn nothing but more hostility from his female colleague. And to why and how the animosity bloomed, Daryl did not know. All he knew was that she was cold to him even from the first time they met at the ministry.

Daryl sighed audibly. Maybe he should change tactics. If knocking cannot get her attention and magic is out of the question, perhaps calling her name might just do the trick.

"Miss Jones? Miss Jones, are you in there? If you are, do come out. Staying in that cramped cubicle will not ease your motion-sickness." He called out but was interrupted by a sharp jab to his side.

He gave a yelp and turned. An old lady stood innocently behind him; an umbrella with a pointy head in hand.

"Excuse me young man," the elderly lady fidgeted a little as she had been holding her bladder since an hour ago and she was getting pissed (pun intended). She had to go! "Does that young lady in there belong to you?" she asked in her most acidic grandmotherly tone. She pulled herself to her full 4' 9" height and glared belligerently at the nice looking young man who was Daryl in front of her, "Look I'm normally very patient but get that young lady out of there or else..!"

Daryl smiled wanly at the old lady in front of him. "As you can see, Madame, I'm trying my best here," he gritted out. Clearly, he was uncomfortable under the cold scrutiny of the beady aged eyes.

He had to think of something to get Miss Jones out of the washroom soon. The elderly woman seems really desperate enough to commit murder! And if only looks could kill, he would be six foot under already. Merlin! How on earth did he manage to land himself in this position was beyond him. He should have known that coming after Miss Jones was a bad idea.

_Darn! Screw courtesy. I'll just break open the door. But first, I need to distract this old lady, who is obviously a muggle,_ Daryl thought to himself.

"Well, I'm not sure if this would work, but it's worth the try," Daryl muttered before exclaiming loudly and pointing outside the window. "Oh my God! Look, isn't that Elvis Presley's private jet plane?"

"Where? Where?" The lady rushed towards the window, immediately scanning the sky to catch a glimpse of the famous muggle singer's private jet.

_That's the oldest of all tricks in the book and she fell for it. I wonder if I ought to pity this poor gullible lady or feel amused._ Daryl mused while he whipped out his wand, pointed it at the door knob and whispered, "Alohomora."

His face broke into a satisfied smile when he heard the distinct click of the lock. Daryl then quickly deposited his wand back into his pocket. "Miss Jones, I'm coming in to get you out," he warned loudly and without much ado, yanked open the door of the cramped cubicle.

Cheryll screamed loudly when Daryl yanked the door open. _How dare he barge in like this!_ _I am not presentable._ Cheryll fumed.

"What the hell are you doing barging in here like this!?" the genteel born young lady became a veritable shrew as she struggled mightily to get to her feet; hampered by her bad choice of outfit. If she ever did dislike Daryl before, this incident cemented her absolute hate of him. She hated him for embarrassing her like this, she hated his good looks, she hated his efficiency at his job but most of all she hated him for being Iryvn's friend.

"I'm--going to--" Cheryll threatened before her face suddenly contorted in an expression that could only be described as having your face pulled in all directions simultaneously, "gonna hurl."

Chalk another black mark in Daryl's book for witnessing her expelling her bodily fluid in the most undignified manner with her face hanging over her newest best friend on the accursed train for the past two hours; the toilet bowl.


	4. 3

**3**

Irvyn nearly dropped the files he was going over at the sudden, unearthly banshee-like screech. "What in Merlin's name is that all about?" he murmured to himself.

"I wonder what's taking Daryl so long in hauling that intern from the ladies. I certainly hope that he did not get into trouble with her. Whoever said that women can be extremely frightful when they are mad obviously had understated it" Irvyn chuckled softly.

_Guess I'd better go see what the fuss is. Anyone who had screamed in that manner is either in absolute distress or is trying very hard to break the windows with her high-pitched voice. And for what reasons, I don't know. Humans are such strange creatures. Why am I even ruminating over this matter? Sheesh… I must have been more tired than I thought._

After setting his files aside carefully, Irvyn made his way towards the source of commotion. He found a red-faced Daryl and a dumb-struck old lady standing in front the train's restroom.

"Dar? What's going on here?" Irvyn queried as he neared the pair. When he was close enough, Irvyn took in the sight of the open lavatory door, young Cheryll Jones bent over the toilet bowl; vomiting and Daryl's blushing face. The truth of whatever that had transpired dawned upon him as he recalled a dream he had weeks ago.

"Dar… you… you… you closet pervert! How could you just… This is priceless… I thought it was just a nonsensical dream… Who would have thought…Oh, my!"

Unable to stand it any longer, Irvyn burst into peals of laughter.

Meanwhile, the poor old lady stood forgotten and unnoticed by the side, stunned with her mouth wide open watching the going-ons; scratch that, the extremely loud going-ons at the toilet cubicle. The racket was compounded by the arrival of the young man with purple eyes laughing his guts out. Who knew that a simple trip to the loo could potentially turn into a full blown soap opera? This was so much better than the cheap sappy dramas she watched on television. Well, all in all, she could have stayed rooted there indefinitely when a sudden twinging pain in her bladder galvanised her into action.

She made her way to the front and spoke to Daryl, "Young man, I don't care what you do to get that lump of thing on the floor out. You can carry her, drag her or whatever. I. Don't. Care. Just do it NOW!"

For added measure and to serve as an emphasis of her 'delicate' state, she brandished her umbrella threateningly. She was sure she would be embarrassed that she had actually been rude and threatening towards strangers but sometimes other things take priority over manners.

Daryl stared wide-eyed at the old lady wielding the umbrella furiously in front of him. He then turned to look at Cheryll Jones who still had her face stuck in front of the toilet seat.

_Why me? Why oh why am I always stuck in sticky situations? Sometimes I really wonder who in all heavens had I offended in my life to hate me so_. Daryl moaned.

Poor Daryl could feel a migraine building up in his head and he concluded that, like all misfortune that befell on him, Irvyn was the cause of it (Well, most of the time it was).

_That bastard knew that this is going to happen. He should have at least warned me. Sigh. A simple spell will provide Miss Jones temporary relief from her ailment. But how am to cast it on her without arousing suspicion from that scary old lady?_ Daryl pondered.

His eyes fell on Irvyn who was still laughing merrily away, oblivious to Daryl's dilemma. A devious smirk crept onto Daryl's face as an idea formed. _A closet pervert, eh? I'll show him._

Without warning, he grabbed Irvyn by the collar, shoved him into the cubicle and slammed the door shut. "Since you knew very well how this will end, I suggest you get her out instead, Irvyn. You know what you can do. I've had enough of this nonsense."

Taking a deep breath, Daryl brushed imaginary dust from his shirt and composed himself before he faced the elderly woman once more. "Don't worry, Madame. I'm sure they will be out soon enough, for this friend of mine is much better at placating young women than I am. I sincerely apologise for the trouble we caused. Good day." And with that, he turned on his heels and left with a satisfied smile.

Problem solved.

* * *

To say that Irvyn was shocked was an understatement. For once in his lifetime, Daryl had managed to catch him off guard and in the process, rudely thrust him into a toilet cubicle. Disorientated, he only regained his bearings when the door was shut with a bang in his face.

Irvyn raked a hand through his hair in exasperation. _I'm not God, Dar. I don't know everything. Sometimes, I wish I wasn't born with this accursed ability. _He exhaled softly.

"What I can do? Really Dar, you are too subtle at times. Guess it comes with being an Auror. They tend to speak too much in codes," Irvyn muttered when he finally understood the underlying meaning behind Daryl's rant.

Then, he turned to face the only other occupant of the cubicle. "Sorry, but I guess you will have to bear with this for a while. I promise it won't hurt and I'll be quick about it," Irvyn smirked.

Cheryll looked shell-shocked as slowly and deliberately, Irvyn unbuttoned his white trench-coat; the movements of his fingers as he unhooked each button were almost sensual. A million impure thoughts and fantasies ran wildly through Cheryll's mind as she watched with growing anticipation at Irvyn's nimble fingers. To her utter dismay, all Irvyn did was to withdraw his wand from the inner pocket of the garment.

"Irv-"

Before Cheryll could finish, Irvyn cast a healing spell on her with a swift flick of his wrist and a murmur. The last thing she remembered before the darkness claimed her was Irvyn's face.

Irvyn watched in surprise as Cheryll's body slumped forward in unconsciousness. "Okay, that wasn't expected," he muttered, pocketing his wand.

"Oh well, it can't be helped. What is done is done. Her body reaction towards healing magic is really out of the ordinary," Irvyn sighed as he slipped a hand around Cheryll's shoulders and the other under her legs. "Either that, or my healing charms need some serious brushing up," he added darkly and lifted the unconscious intern bridal style with ease.

After a few minutes of fumbling with the doorknob, he finally got the cubicle door open. A smile was plastered on his face as he greeted the gawking old lady outside, "The toilet is all yours, Madame. Enjoy!"

Then, he sauntered back to the compartment the three wizards shared nonchalantly, as if carrying a lady who was out cold in his arms was the most natural thing in the world. Irvyn silently approached Daryl who was sitting by the window and dumped the bundle in his arms unceremoniously onto the train seat.

"You are pissed with me." It wasn't even a question.

Daryl did not comment on the statement. Instead, he continued staring out of the window, enjoying the country-side scenery and resolutely ignored Irvyn. A thick and uncomfortable silence descended on the duo. The rest of the journey to Glennmarie Town was passed in utter silence.

When the train pulled to a halt at their stop, Irvyn almost sighed in relief. Being a hyperactive person, he certainly cannot stand prolonged silence. And the tension between him and Daryl throughout the journey was killing him. _I wonder whose fault is that._ His mind chided him.

After shaking Cheryll Jones none too gently to wake her, Irvyn bounded immediately to the door. He was only too glad to leave the train and get the mission done. However, a hand grabbed Irvyn's elbow before he could step out of the vehicle. Irvyn turned around quizzically to face a somber Daryl.

"I'm not mad at you. Idiot," Daryl smiled gently and playfully flicked his finger on Irvyn's nose. For a moment, Irvyn was speechless, uncomprehending. His smile however became brighter when the statement finally registered in his brain. And Irvyn disembarked the train with a distinct lightness to his steps.


	5. 4

**4**

The station was bustling with life when Daryl stepped off the train. Adults were milling about, minding their own business; some running to catch the train while others were either reading the papers or chatting with an acquaintance. The children, well, are just children and they do what kids usually do; they play. All in all, there was nothing out of the ordinary with the sights, sounds and smell at the crowded train station.

Daryl knitted his eyebrows in confusion as he took in his surroundings. Nothing seems to be out of place there. The train was not gobbling up any humans. Furthermore there were no one dropping dead all of a sudden. Neither the people were in unnatural trance-like states, nor were they under the control of love spells. Everything there seems normal. Why on earth would the ministry send the Unspeakables there?

"Irvyn, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong in this town. Are you sure the ministry got the right place?" Daryl eyed his best friend skeptically, who was currently bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking absolutely gleeful. A sense of foreboding settled onto the pit of his stomach.

"Well of course there isn't anything wrong here. We will be in trouble if there is," replied Irvyn offhandedly. He still had the idiotic grin on his face but his eyes now sported a predatory gleam that only exists when something sweet is near. Very near.

"What? So you mean that the ministry sent us here for nothing?"

"Don't assume things, Dar. The ministry did not send us to Glennmarie town. I just thought that we should stop here before we proceed to Little Pickering." Irvyn fiddled with the mission file in his hands.

"And pray tell why should we waste our time here and not head straight to Little Pickering?"

"Information gathering," Irvyn tossed the file he was holding to his friend. "Perhaps you will understand when you read this."

Daryl scanned through the file that contained a parchment with two sentences that simply read, "Our department has received a report stating that something strange is occurring in Little Pickering, Wales. Please investigate and rectify the problem."

"What kind of mission is this? Didn't your Department Head supply you with more details?" Daryl stared at the piece of paper incredulously.

"Unfortunately, no. Emmeline is a slave driver and she loves handing me one-lined missions. I think it is her past time to watch me suffer." Irvyn laughed as he fidgeted nervously.

"Why Glennmarie Town? How sure are you that you can get information on the situation in Little Pickering here? And don't tell me that you are psychic. I'll hex you."

"This town has good trade relations with Little Pickering. With the amount of merchants going to and fro between the two towns, someone is bound to know something. Besides, if scandalous blather can travel at the speed of light here, how swift do you think an interesting rumour like this can fly?" Irvyn replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Your analytical skills never fail to astound me. If only you had put them to good use within the ministry and learn that drugging your fellow colleagues with weird concoctions is not the way to get you promoted, I'm sure you would not have stayed as a lowly staff for five years," Daryl commented dryly giving Irvyn a pointed look which Irvyn blissfully ignored, since his eyes are currently glued to a delicious looking lollipop held by a child at the station.

"By the way, I heard that Glennmarie is quite famous for its muggle hand-made candies. I'm sure that with your level of professionalism it did not influence your decision to come here." Daryl's voice was cool, almost flippant.

_Oops! Busted!_ Irvyn mentally winced.

Within a split second, he changed the subject. "Oh my! Look at the time. We are off schedule. I need to go gather the news fast. Wait for me here. I'll be back soon."

Irvyn turned to leave but a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. "I'll follow you. It's my mission to escort you on your task."

"I think you have some pronoun difficulty, Daryl Rivers. It's your mission to escort US namely the Unspeakables on OUR task. For your information, this isn't my first field assignment but it is for her." Irvyn gestured at the still slumbering Cheryll Jones whom Daryl had wisely deposited on a bench at the station. "Listen to reason, Dar. I'm capable of taking care of myself. Even the blind can see that she needs your protection more than I do. So, stay here with her."

"But…"

"This is a direct order," snapped Irvyn sharply, exerting his authority as the team leader.

The ring of finality in the statement effectively cut short whatever Daryl had wanted to say. He could only nod mutely as his grey eyes watched his friend leave in a flurry.

It was well past noon when Irvyn finally returned to the train station. He spotted Daryl immediately since his unruly mop of jet-black hair does stand out in a crowd and walked towards the young Auror. As he approached his friend, he noticed that Cheryll was already awake and up about, ranting something that he couldn't quite make out. However, she stopped raving when Irvyn was within hearing range and instead, smiled sweetly at him as she adjusted her robes.

"Oh Irvyn, you are back! I was so worried for you," Cheryll gushed out clasping her hands together.

Irvyn shifted the heavy bags of candies from one of his hand to the other and beamed "I'm sure you do."

"Been shopping?" The bags filled to brim with sugary confections of all sorts were met with a heated glare from Daryl.

Irvyn blinked back innocently and clutched the bags tighter to his chest. "Well, you don't expect me to waltz into a shop and ask for information without buying anything right? That will be so rude. It's only common courtesy to return a favour by doing a favour. And in this case, it is rather justified that I purchase the product from the vendors as a form of appreciation for the precious info."

"Your logic is impeccable as always," Daryl shot back sarcastically, unwilling to start another tirade on wasting precious ministry funds. "And I gather that you were successful in getting the information needed?"

Irvyn nodded enthusiastically. Still smiling, as if he was commenting about how fine the weather was he stated plainly, "It seems that we will be dealing with a rewinding town."

Both his team mates could only stare blankly at Irvyn when he delivered the statement. Irvyn chuckled sheepishly. "Errm.. I'll give you the details as we go along. Right now we have to get to Little Pickering fast. We've got no time to lose, literally." He then turned and walked towards a secluded area of the train station.

"How are we going to get there? Not by train again?" Cheryll piped up, eyes shining with hope.

"No. We will be apparating. See you on the other side," came the reply and a loud cracking noise. Two cracking noise followed soon after.

They had left the station.

* * *

The corner café in Little Pickering exudes a homely atmosphere. Upon stepping into the tiled café, one would certainly notice the beautiful and sweet floral wallpaper that adorn the walls and the low hanging wooden potted plants above each varnished table. The sunlight that hits the glass windows on a bright clear day casts streams of light into the little coffee shop, further enhancing its ethereality. This was where travelers and villagers alike would come together, relax and trade tales. 

And here, we find a wizard and a witch leisurely sitting at a booth by a glass window. _This seems almost like a date._ Cheryl sighed dreamily as she rest her cheek on her hand, absently stirring her cup of tea and staring intently at the handsome amethyst-eyed young man before her.

"Would you like another piece of chocolate cake, sir?" an adorably blushing waitress addressed Irvyn, interrupting Cheryll's train of thought. Cheryll mentally cursed, sending a possessive evil glare at the lady attendant.

Irvyn looked up from his plate and smiled charmingly at the waitress. "Yes, please. I would love to have another. The cakes here are just plain wonderful." The lady's face flushed even more at the compliment and with a bright smile, she gushed, "You should try our muffins. They are the best. I'll get some for you. Don't worry, it's on the house!" Then she turned and left, grinning from ear to ear.

_I can't believe that this is so easy._ Irvyn thought to himself and scooped another spoonful of cake into his mouth, conveniently ignoring his female colleague. The little bell at top of the front door tinkled merrily, signaling a newcomer into the shop.

"Over here, Dar!" Irvyn waved to his friend who has just entered the café. Daryl walked towards Irvyn and Cheryll, and made himself comfortable on a chair to the right of the wizard. "Found anything?" asked Irvyn between mouthfuls.

"Well it seems that your theory is correct after all," Daryl answered. He signaled for the waiter and placed an order for a cup of coffee. He certainly needs some caffeine in his blood now. "I've tried blasting a hole at the northernmost wall that enclosed this town, but I still couldn't get out. I thought that I'm finally out of the town when I crept through the hole, but I find myself back from where I started. This is so frustrating."

"Well, we couldn't get out of the front gates either. After we entered this town we attempted to go out through the gate and for some unknown reason, we ended up back inside the town," Cheryll chimed in, unwilling to be left out of the conversation.

Irvyn pursed his lips thoughtfully. He abandoned his now empty plate and started dumping packets of sugar into his hot cocoa instead. "It's like what I've said before. This is a rewinding town. It seems that time and space has stopped on one day and people kept experiencing that day forever. The information that I've collected from Glennmarie Town have proven as such. For instance, there was a testimony from the owner of the vineyard who got an order from a shop in Little Pickering on 30th August asking them to send over 50 barrels of rum before the 31st August. The man delivered the rum that was requested immediately. However, no matter how many times he tried to enter Little Pickering, he was still on the outside of the town. Puzzled, he went back to Glennmarie. Then, he tried calling the shop that ordered the wine but all he could get was static. And every day since, he received a call saying, 'Please send over 50 barrels of rum to Little Pickering before the 31st.' And this isn't an isolated case. Several other merchants also experienced the same problem."

"But isn't it weird that we could get in?" Cheryll voiced out, a quizzical expression adorned her delicate features.

Irvyn smiled patiently, "Well, I had two theories regarding this mission. And it seems that both are unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on whether you are a pessimist or an optimist, proven correct."

He paused for dramatic effect and waited for the cheesy detective music that is constantly abused in movies worldwide to be played in the background. But since this was real life all that he met was silence. Disappointed, he continued his explanation.

"Firstly, because this town is obviously under a mysterious spell, only people who are able to wield magic can enter it. So that explains why we can enter this town but not the muggle merchants. Secondly, if this town is indeed repeating August 30th over and over again, then it might not be possible for us to exit once we are in it. To make the long story short, we are trapped here unless we are able to unravel the mystery of the magic that had this town within its grasp."

"We are back to square one then. So far, I have found nothing that could have caused this disturbance. I just don't understand this," Daryl gritted, massaging his temples.

Irvyn heaved a sigh. The mission was also taking a toll on the normally very energetic Unspeakable. That, and the lack of sleep of course. Irvyn took his eyes away from Daryl and began scanning the crowd outside the café lazily while his fingers caressed the handle of his cup lightly. At that moment, a flash of gold and blue caught his attention.

Irvyn's eyes widened in surprise He got up from his seat and in his hurry, spilled his cup of cocoa on the table. Irvyn then rushed out of the café without a word to his confused team mates.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the trio, they were not the only people from the wizarding world in the little corner café. Two figures sat in a booth at the far end of the shop, silently observing the two wizards and the witch. The taller and lankier of the duo spoke in a harsh whisper to the other occupant sharing his table, "See? I told you to get a better flying carpet didn't I, Joe? Look what you have gotten us into." 

The man with a thin moustache and blonde hair scowled indignantly. "Well, that carpet was too expensive, Adrian. It is not my fault that our budget is tight! And I didn't know that the carpet is not equipped with a shock-absorber. The shop-keeper lied to me. Darn! I demand a refund."

"You should have checked it out first. Boss will kill us for dropping the stuff," Adrian muttered, twisting the paper napkin in his hands in anxiety. "And worse, the ministry has sent their dogs to sniff out this problem. We are so going to die," he moaned into his hands.

"Not if we get to the girl first. I swear she knows something. She kept hiding away from us," Joe stated confidently and sipped his tea. "She may also have that with her," he added, smirking.

"Why did the ministry send him? Of all people, why couldn't they choose someone else?" Adrian groaned, obviously too absorbed in his own thoughts that he had unintentionally paid no heed to what his partner had said.

"Are you even listening to me?" Annoyed, Joe rapped on Adrian's head sharply with his fist.

"What?"

"Forget it. Who are you talking about?"

"Him. The one in that white trenchcoat. Irvyn Quinlan. He was in the same House as I was back in Hogwarts. There were rumours circling around saying that that guy is a seer. It's creepy, I tell you. I heard that all of his premonitions are dead accurate. He may have known that we are here. He could have set traps to lure us in and force information out of us. And if we won't tell, he will torture us and then kill us... Or worse, he could feed us to the occamy. I heard that they keep those beasts in the ministry. I hate occamy! And and…" Adrian rattled on nervously, shredding the napkin he had into pieces. The poor lad was close to hyperventilating.

"Enough! You exaggerate too much! I will have no more of this nonsense. If he is indeed a seer as you claim, and sensed our presence, he would have confronted us a long time ago and not sit there, chatting without a care." Joe exclaimed. He shook Adrian's shoulder roughly to get his point through.

"Then again, if that Irvyn Quinlan is a seer, it would be beneficial for us to have him on our side. He is a muggle-born?" Joe added, stroking his chin slyly.

"A half-blood. Hey, look! He's leaving." Adrian pointed when he noticed Irvyn's hasty departure.

"Holy shit! He has spotted the girl. How on earth did he know? Doesn't matter. We better move quick," Joe cursed. He hauled the gaping Adrian from his chair and the both of them exited the café.

* * *

Irvyn lost sight of the little child he was trailing at the crowded town square. "Where did she go? She was just too fast," he grumbled, wiping the perspiration from his brow. 

"_It's exactly like in my dream…"_ Irvyn frowned. _Then does it mean that there will be wizards other than us here? _He mused as he weaved through the maze-like streets and alleys aimlessly.

"KYAAAA!" a shrill scream sliced through the silent street, effectively shaking Irvyn out of his reverie. Tension hung in the air like a woolen blanket, thick and heavy as Irvyn ran towards the source of the voice.

After several twists and turns he finally skidded to halt at a secluded alley. There, he saw the little girl from his dreams being held by a burly man with thin moustache while another, who was taller and lankier, was pointing a wand threateningly at her. Irvyn felt a wave of déjà vu. Without wasting a moment, he whipped out his wand. "Stupefy!" He yelled and a stream of light streaked from his wand, hitting the wizard who was holding a wand to the child's face, point blank.

He then turned towards the burly man, a spell on the tip of his tougue but he could not utter it for the man had a wand at the child's throat. "Speak a word, and she dies." A guttural voice gritted out. "Drop your wand."

Irvyn's schooled his features to portray nonchalance even though deep down inside, he was bubbling with anxiety. He raised both his hands, palms up. His wand slipped from his slim fingers onto the asphalt lane in a noisy clatter. "Fine. Fine. You've got your wish. Let the child go." A smile played on his lips. A mask.

"I don't remember striking a deal with you, you ministry dog," the man bellowed. "You are Irvyn Quinlan are you not?"

"And so what if I am?"

"It's a pity that a talented young man like you would be groveling at the feet of those blasted pure-bloods. Don't you think that it is time for you to break away from their oppressive clutches and join us to uphold your true rights as a respected wizard in the wizarding world?" the man preached.

Irvyn's eyes glimmered dangerously, though his facial expression showed no evidence of his feelings. "I do not know what you are talking about. Politics are of no concern to me." Irvyn took a step closer to the wizard. "If I'm a dog, what makes you, then? A murderer? A kidnapper? Or rather, a Puppet?" He smirked mockingly.

Irvyn's taunt struck a chord. "Why you…" he started angrily.

His sentence, however, was left hanging with the appearance of Cheryll Jones into the scene. "Irvyn? What's wrong? What's happening here?"

It all happened too fast. Sensing Cheryll's untimely arrival, the hostile wizard had whirled around and pointed his wand at her. "Abicio!" A beam of purple streak out of his wand towards Cheryll who was rooted to the spot, too stunned to move.

"Ms. Jones? Merlin! Get down!" Irvyn yelled a split second before the spell was spoken, and he was moving just as the flash of power flew from the wizard's wand. Lunging for Cheryll he drove his shoulder into the lithe form of his team mate, pushing Cheryll away.

The spell moved along its original course and hit Irvyn squarely on the chest instead. Irvyn was picked up and sent hurtling to the side. His body impacted on the wall of the building that lined the small alley and a distinct sound of bones cracking could be heard as Irvyn slid down the wall in a lifeless heap.

Vision blurred by the blood trickling down his face, Irvyn watched with fuzzy eyes as all hell broke lose. He remembered seeing Daryl arrive, and then he lost track of time as darkness claimed him into her comforting arms.


End file.
